


Ocean Blue

by HelloTragic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 00:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15449283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloTragic/pseuds/HelloTragic
Summary: There were three things certain in Killian Jones’s life.1) His brother was his idol.2) He was helplessly in love with Emma Swan.3) She absolutely didn’t love him back.She’d made that clear five years ago when he left the city. So when he was forced to return to Boston once more, to a place he swore he’d never go back to, Killian had never expected to see Emma Swan again, much less at Liam’s funeral.Losing his only brother was devastating. Learning what he had done was worse.





	Ocean Blue

**Author's Note:**

> And the reposting continues

                                            

 

**Killian**

 

He’d never seen so many white roses before in his life. There must have been hundreds. A perfectly fitting display given the occasion, as a large portion of Bostonians and naval officers poured into the small chapel to send Liam Jones off with respect. It was ridiculous, really. Most of the people in attendance hadn’t even seen Liam in eight years, yet they were crying and telling stories about him as if he had been their best friend.

 

If Liam had had his way, none of this would have even taken place. There had been a late night discussion, a morbid one fueled by far too many pints of beer at a port in Singapore. They’d been in training drills all day - all week, really - and Killian had been ready to let off some steam. Liam, being the older and wiser one, had followed him into town to ensure that his pockets didn’t get picked by a lovely faced con artist. There had been more pretty little distractions than he could count that first year, but he pushed that thought from his mind, only ready to deal with tragedy at a time.

 

Three bars later, they’d somehow gotten on the topic of death, and in true fashion, the younger Jones brother had brought up burial at sea. Liam hadn’t been convinced, but Killian had been keen on the idea of joining Davy Jones locker as a true pirate. Liam had finally agreed to join in on his idiotic plan, and it had been a long running joke aboard the ship. Liam and Killian Jones, long lost kin of Davy Jones.

 

Then Liam had gone off and gotten himself killed saving a young naval ensign at that same damn bar nearly three years later. A stupid argument with locals that never should have happened. A cocky ensign straight out of college who thought he was God’s gift to the uniform. Something about a bet gone wrong, and suddenly men were pushing and shoving. Liam had stepped in to try and calm everyone down and a before anyone had had a chance to react, a knife had launched its way into Liam’s side. Killian had been left holding Liam in his arms, watching helplessly as the life drained from his eyes.

 

Burial at sea. That had been the agreement, but when the time had come, Killian had found himself too selfish a bastard to follow through, realizing that he needed something more concrete to cling to. He needed to visit Liam’s headstone and know where he was. He needed to be able to go back to visit him and talk to him.

 

So there he was, breaking his brother’s wishes, and watching people grieve for a man they hardly knew. His flask felt heavy in his pocket, and had it not been for his need to carry that bloody casket later, he would have already gladly accepted the warm amber contents. His fingers laced around the neck, using the weight of it to anchor him.

 

He was falling into the darkness already. A few more hours and he’d allow it to take him whole, but as his thoughts drifted to that welcoming pit of emptiness, he felt a hand clasp his shoulder, pulling him back, if only momentarily.

 

He started, twisting backwards, thrown by the familiarity of the gesture. The first thing that caught his gaze was the blonde hair, somehow darker than he remembered.

 

“Killian, I just wanted to express my condolences, and to let you know Mary Margaret and I are here for you if you need anything.”

 

Killian gave a forced smile. He knew his old friend meant well, but the words had lost all meaning to him. That same sentiment has been said to him over and over since the stabbing. It was just the polite thing to say, and so he gave the polite response.

 

“Thank you, Dave.”

 

Time had been kind to the man in front of him. There were a few more wrinkles around his eyes, signs that he had had plenty to smile about over the last five years. He was tall and lean, having grown out of his awkward lanky body. Now he was fitter than many of the men Killian had served with. A simple silver band adorned his left hand, signaling that he’d finally found the courage to propose to the woman he’d been dating for years. Yes, life had been kind to David Nolan. Very kind in fact if the small child hugging his chest was any indication.

 

The little girl appeared to have inherited her father’s blue eyes. She groggily asked where her mommy was and Dave quietly whisper back to her that she was somewhere close by. The girl seemed pleased as she nudged her cheek, curtained behind blonde strands, against his chest and dozed back off. She was the spitting image of her father

 

The little girl’s hair had sent a pang through his heart. The sudden memory of golden locks sparked before him. He had to shake the image from his mind before it could implant itself anymore deeply, before it could conjure the beautiful face that went with those curls, rosy cheeks, and emerald eyes that sparkled with determination.

 

 _She_ had been his everything once upon a time. Never really _his_ , but everything he had was hers, even if she didn’t know it. That had been a lifetime ago, though; a period of his life that was locked away deep inside him, and nothing but pain could come from pulling at that string. No, he wouldn’t think of _her_.

 

Not now. Not today. Not when he’d already lost so much.

 

“David, have you seen-”

 

Time hadn’t touched Mary Margaret. Granted, her hair was now much shorter, but she was still the same lovely lass that David had spent a full year fawning over, only speaking of his feeling for her in the safety of their dorm room freshman year.

 

“Oh, Killian. I’m so sorry about Liam.”

 

The pity in her eyes stung and he forced himself to look away. His eyes caught a glimpse once more of Liam’s casket, though, and his head snapped back to David instead. He watched as his pixie-haired friend ran her hand over the young girls back. Their daughter couldn’t have been more than a few years old. They must have had her right after college.

 

It was too much, seeing their perfect family, still happily entact. He felt no ill will towards them, but the sight of them left his mouth bitter as he felt the call of the flask buried deep within his pockets.

 

He was saved from the torment as the reverend approached the podium at the front of the room. Politely excusing himself, he took his seat in the front row, sitting alone amongst a crowd of hundreds.

 

Everything passed in a blur.  Before he knew what was happening, he was standing outside, watching his brother being lowered into the ground. Most of the crowd had disbursed, but a handful of people were still milling around behind him, mingling and catching up, like it was a party. Liam’s grave not yet covered over, and already people had forgotten him.

 

Fury rose from somewhere deep within him. He was seconds away from yelling at them all to take their leave, but just before he could get the words out, her soft voice filled the air. The shock of her presence tempering down his anger.

 

“Killian?”

 

 _Breathtaking_.

 

She’d always been breathtaking. They’d both been a little drunk the day they met. Killian had spent what little time he had free from coursework following Liam around like a lost puppy. At the time, he’d though his roommate to be nothing more than a condescending prick, but Liam being Liam had reminded him that he wouldn’t always be around, that he needed to make friends and find himself a village for after Liam graduated. Killian had used the same argument in his counterprotest, stating that he knew Liam wouldn’t always be around, so he wanted to cherish the time they did have.

 

Liam had been right, as always. The more Killian had gotten to know David, the less he hated him, and at some point halfway through the first semester, they actually became friends. So much so that David saw it within his rights so drag Killian out to a party to celebrate surviving midterms. Killian rolled his eyes, knowing that he’d only need to go long enough for David to find a pretty face, and then he could slip out back to their room.

 

_Oh, and you’ll finally get to meet my sister._

 

He’d heard about David’s sister on more than a few occasions. She was apparently an orphan that Mrs. Nolan had taken in when they were both fourteen. She also had a roommate that David had been more than smitten with.

 

So with nothing but reluctance, Killian had trudged into some trust-fund kid’s mansion and had headed straight for the bar. David had found him a few minutes later, with a blonde goddess in tow.

 

If he closed his eyes, he could still smell the perfume she had been wearing that night. And then she had smiled at him, and in an instant, Killian had been lost. They had spent the entire night talking, neither of them feeling the need to drink anything stronger than beer. And in the weeks and months that had followed, they had became inseparable.

 

The problem, though, was they had only ever been friends. He had been far too much of a coward to ever tell her of his feelings, and so he had watched, helplessly, from the sidelines as Emma had dated every creep under the sun. The only blessing had been that none of the bloody wankers had staying power and she usually sent them packing by month four. Even still, he hadn’t been able to find the courage to ask her out himself, too frightened of losing her when she inevitably rejected him. Yes, they had bantered, but she’d never given him any indication that she saw the possibility of more, so he had waited and watched. He had watched as Neal Cassidy moved in on Emma during their senior year. He had watched as four month had come and gone, and Neal had remained. He had watched as Emma had started spending less and less time with him in favor of Neal.

 

Then graduation had come. Liam had managed to get leave to come and watch Killian walk the stage. Killian had been all set to leave the next afternoon for his naval enlistment. And he had watched as Liam had whispered something in Emma’s ear, something that had made her cheeks flush crimson.

 

That night they had all gone back to the mansion to celebrate one last night together before they all went their separate ways. By that point, he’d come to know Victor Whale, and to know where Victor kept the best liquor. He’d snuck a bottle from it’s hiding spot, had found Emma, and had revelled in the libations. He’d asked where Neal was at one point. The man had always been a prick and had refused to hang out with Emma’s friends. She’d been mum on him, likely in an effort to avoid fighting about him again.

 

The rest of the night had been a blur, and Killian had woken up alone in his bed the next morning with a splitting headache. When he’d finally pulled himself together enough to join everyone for lunch, he’d found Emma sitting next to Liam at the table exchanging whispers. She’d refused to meet Killian’s eye the entire meal, yet had had sent plenty of looks Liam’s way.

 

When breakfast had ended, David had clapped him on the back, telling him how much he was going to miss him. Mary Margaret had hugged him and cried into his shoulder. And Emma - Emma had simply wished him good luck and had left saying that she had “somewhere to be”.

 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but after four years, he’d hoped for something more. Something symbolic of the bond they’d shared, but she’d dismissed him as if they’d been mere acquaintances and it had nearly killed him. In the weeks leading up to his departure he’d been looking for a sign, a spark of longing. Anything to suggest that he might have had a shot with her. But the day had come, and he had suddenly begun to wonder if everything between them had been built up as something more in his head.

 

And so he had left Boston, promising never to return. He had let himself fall into bed with whatever woman he’d spotted first at a bar, hoping to put _her_ behind him. Hoping to mend the crack in his heart. But it had never worked. Each woman was found lacking, leaving him to long for what would never be.

 

Instead he had turned all of his attention to his job, rising quickly through the ranks just as Liam had done before him. There had  still been the occasional bar wench after long months at sea, but he knew going in that they were nothing more than distractions, a way to scratch an itch. Liam had returned to Boston a few times on orders, and kept Killian updated on David and Mary Margaret, but he never spoke of Emma. There had been an unspoken rule that she was somehow off limits.

 

Boston was in the past. _Emma_ was in the past.

 

Except she wasn’t. She was standing not three feet away from him now and looked as gorgeous as she had the first time he’d laid eyes on her. The red dress had been swapped for black, and her skin was a little bit lighter, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

 

“Swan.”

 

Neither of them moved to close the gap between them, despite the twitch in his hand that longed to touch her. To soak in her warmth. She looked weary though, and it stung. He knew exactly what she was seeing. He’d let his hair grow far longer than deemed uniform appropriate, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved. He must have been a sight.

 

“I’m really sorry about Liam. He was a good man.”

 

_That he was._

 

“Aye, a far better man than I.”

 

Her responding smile was weak and forced. Her hands knotted themselves together and it was obvious that his mere presence was making her uncomfortable.

 

With a sad nod he began to excuse himself, but was quickly interrupted.

 

“How long are you here for?”

 

What a loaded question. As his own fate hadn’t yet been decided by men of higher ranking than himself, he didn’t know what his future held. Continued service, or dishonorable discharge? His knuckles still bared hints of the young ensigns broken nose and dislocated jaw.

 

“I’m not sure, honestly.”

 

She didn’t say anything, just a brief nod. When had everything become so jilted and strained between them?

 

“Well I should let you go.”

 

“Ya, I rode here with David. He’s probably looking for-”

 

“Mommy! Mommy!”

 

Killian barely had time to react as a flurry of flaxen whirred before him, launching herself at Emma’s leg.

 

_Mommy._

 

“Hey kid. I thought I told you to stay with Uncle David.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

The little girl put on her best attempt at a pout, and false as it was, Emma melted before the child, bending over to pick her up. Had he not been so completed stunned, he probably would have succumbed to her charms as well.

 

“Swan?”

 

He thought over her age again. Before, he’d been certain that the child he’d mistaken for David and Mary Margaret’s and had been born right after college, but this girl was clearly Emma’s. And that meant that Emma would have become pregnant near the end of their last year in school, or just after. That only meant that she was Neal Cassidy’s daughter.

 

Quickly he glanced down at Emma’s hands, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He found no gold or silver resting on _that_ finger.

 

“You talk funny.”

 

Emma’s cheeks reddened at that.

 

“Sweety, that wasn’t very polite.”

 

“I’m sorry mommy.”

 

This time the apology seemed more genuine.

 

“Killian,” Emma started reluctantly. “This is Hope.”

 

“Please to meet you, milady.”

 

It garnered a giggle from the little girl, enough to pull a slight smile from his lips as well as Emma’s. The irony of her name wasn’t lost on him. A little girl named ‘Hope’ had dashed his completely.

 

Emma Swan had a child.

 

“Emma, I’m sorry. I turned around for a second and she was gone.”

 

The looks shared between Emma and Mary Margaret confirmed his suspicions. Emma hadn’t wanted him to know that she was a mother. Five years away had been an eternity and now he was on the outside looking in. The odd man out of their little family.

 

“It’s fine.” Emma placed a kiss to the girls hairline.

 

“I’m hungry.”

 

David, who had now joined them laughed at that.

 

“You’re always hungry, just like your dad.”

 

Emma’s eyes snapped up to David and he went pale. He wasn’t certain if the topic of Hope’s lineage was a sore subject, or if Emma simply didn’t want him to know. But one thing was clear; Hope’s father was off limits to him.

 

“It is getting late. I don’t want to hold any of you up.”

 

Killian shook David’s hand and hugged Mary Margaret good bye. He turned to Emma, but time had put a wedge between them, and he wasn’t sure that anything could remove it. His hand twitched at his side again, but he held back, instead giving a sad smile that fell immediately.

 

He was halfway back to his rental car when he heard David calling after him. They were all going to dinner at Granny’s diner, a long running favorite throughout college. David told Killian that they hadn’t been back since the last time Liam had come to Boston, but it seemed fitting given the occasion. Killian glanced back to Emma already waiting near the car, trying to see if there was any trepidation. He didn’t want to do anything that could upset her. When she refused to look at him, it was the only sign he needed.

 

“I think it’s best that I retire to my hotel for the evening.”

 

David wouldn’t have it.

 

“Killian, I insist.”

 

Reluctantly Killian agreed. If there was one thing he knew had remained true about David Nolan over the years, it was that he was a bloody stubborn man who wouldn’t give up.

 

The diner was just as he remembered it; tree-stamped wallpaper still adorned on the walls, pendant lights hung above each table, and waitresses in short skirts bussed behind the bar. Even the leather lining the booths had held its stiffness.

 

The five of then squeezed into their usual booth, moving the ‘reserved’ sign Granny had left there for them. That old proprietor had always held a soft spot for the elder Jones brother. Emma took the inside wall on the opposite side of the table, as far from him as possible. Mary Margaret crammed in next to her, leaving David to sit next to him. It was so familiar yet different, a further reminder of how much had changed. And then there was Hope. The excitable lass who insisted on sitting in his lap as they waited for their food.

 

Mary Margaret had made a remark about how strange it was for Hope to be so open with a stranger, but changed the subject as quickly as the words had left her mouth. The four adults caught up on each other’s lives over the meal.

 

David and Emma had both gone into law enforcement, although they worked at separate precincts. Mary Margaret was now a fourth grade teacher and spoke very animatedly as she told the story of a young boy who had been trying to pay girls in chocolate chip cookies to flash up their dresses.

 

He and Emma exchanged very few words between them, always addressing the group instead. By the time the meal was over, Hope was asleep with her head in his lap and her legs draped across David’s.

 

When dinner was over, Killian went back to his hotel room alone, the sudden, new theme for his life.

 

 _Alone_.

 

His heart ached at the desperation of it. All night he had sat in the company of old friends whose lives had grown and flourished, while his had only withered. His only family now lay six feet below ground. There was no one left to care what happened to him. No one to share meals with, to exchange old stories with. No one.

 

He thought back to dinner. Never once had Neal’s name come up, and Killian wondered where he was. Were he and Emma still together? Was he a part of Hope’s life? That precious little girl had wormed her way under Killian’s skin in only one day. He could only imagine what four years could do to a man. Did Neal understand what a gift he’d been given, or did he take it for granted along with everything else that man had been given. Did Neal take Emma’s heart for granted?

 

It was too much, and from his coat jacket he felt the flask calling for him. Felt his skin buzzing with the need of it as images of Liam on the ground, bleeding out replayed themselves in him mind over and over again. Too weak to hold it off, he drank the entire contents, welcoming the darkness.

 

The next day came and went, spent away as he slumbered. The only thing wrenching him from sleep was the shrill sound coming from his phone on the desk. Once, twice, thrice. It didn’t stop, and finally Killian forced himself out of bed, grimacing at the unknown Boston number flashing on the screen.

 

“Hello?”

 

His voice was gruff.

 

“Jonesy!”

 

There was only one person that had ever called him that. Victor.

 

“You have to come out and play.”

 

Killian thought on it. Victor had always been a bit of a wild card when it came to alcohol. He and Emma had had to bail him out of more than one tight spot in his inebriated state, but perhaps time had melowed him.

 

Thirty minutes later, Killian found himself inside a pretentious upscale club. The place was littered with young girls dressed in scantily clad outfits, barely a care to the amount of skin they exposed. No, time had done nothing for Victor Whale.

 

They reminisced at the bar. Victor was now a doctor, although considering that he was still a young resident, he was certain that many of his hospital heroism stories were nothing more than tall tales. Exaggerations of his greatness. It was on the fourth rum that the conversation shifted, and Killian’s inhibitions began to dull.

 

“You know, Jonesy. I’m surprised you and Emma never ended up together.”

 

Killian found himself snickering.

 

“And why are you surprised? There was never anything between us.”

 

“But you wanted there to be.”

 

He felt his jaw clench. Of course he’d wanted Emma, but it was another one of those unspoken things. Yes, he’d longed and pined for Emma for years, but no one ever brought it up in conversation. No one except Liam, and even that hadn’t happened since graduation.

 

“And if I did?” Killian challenged. “She’s with Neal. Even had his bloody child.”

 

He watched as Victor shrunk at the volume and disdain of his voice. It wasn’t that he had any ill will towards Hope. How could he, when she was so innocent and pure? No, his rage was directed solely at Neal.

 

“What would I have said? ‘Emma, I know you’ve never shown any signs of wanting me, and you’re in a long term relationship with another man. Oh, and you’re carrying his child. But hey, have you ever thought of giving us a shot instead?’”

 

“What the hell are you on about?” Whale’s words were slightly slurred at that point. “Neal isn’t Hope’s father.”

 

“He’s not?”

 

There was a flutter in his stomach. Something tugging at her nerves.

 

“God no. That idiot got himself arrested right after Christmas our senior year.”

 

“Wait. No one ever said anything.”

 

“Of course not. His dad got involved. I only knew about it because I was in his ethics class when it happened. Ironic, right? That guy teaching ethics? He kept it quiet. Something about Neal and some stolen cars. I dunno, but he got sentenced to five years. There’s no way he’s Hope’s dad.”

 

Before the conversation could continue, or Killian could ask more, two young woman approached them. They introduced themselves. Ruby, a brunette that practically shoved her chest in Victor’s face, and Tink, a small blonde. There had been an offer to leave and find somewhere more private, the invitation clear. Whale hadn’t wasted any time in following the raven haired lass outside, but as Killian looked at Tink through rum soaked eyes, the only thing he could think of was that her hair wasn’t the right shade of blonde.

 

He excused himself and got a cab, returning to his hotel room alone once again, although a little less heartstricken than he had the evening before.

 

The next morning he woke early, with only the hint of a hangover. He spent the morning picking out a headstone for Liam, never having realized how many choices the were for the stone type, color, or even the script font. It was absolutely draining, and all he wanted to do afterwards was go back to sleep.

 

It was only the tiny sliver of optimism that had entered his heart the night before that kept him from keeling over on the way to David’s for the weekly family dinner. Dinner was being set on the table just as he arrived.

 

“Uncle Killian! Sit by me!”

 

He was completely unable to refuse the young girl and spent the entirety of the meal mesmerizing her with magic tricks. The tricks were small as he wasn’t overly fond of magic shows as a child, never really bothering to have learned any illusions. He pulled a quarter from her ear and then separated and reattached his thumb. For his grand finale, he made her stuffed dog disappear. Her eyes were wide in wonder and amazement as she asked where Roger went.

 

Emma seemed more relaxed as the evening progressed, but still shied away from engaging him in conversation. With every moment that passed, the sparked of hope dulled, until it was finally snuffed out when she left with hardly a word. Had it not been for Hope’s arms tangling around his leg, he wouldn’t have realized that they were leaving at all.

 

That night when he returned to his hotel room, he found his flask as empty as his heart. He tried to sleep, but it eluded him as he tossed and turned. Visions of Liam once again plagued him. Finally, he was forced to throw on some clothes and trek out into the cold night to the liquor store at the corner. A seedy little place filled with the saddest of souls. He’d blend right in.

 

The selection of rum was bare bottom cheap stuff that spoke of the normal clientele. It wouldn’t matter after a glass or two though. Soon enough he’d be knee deep and he knew eventually it would taste like water. There were only two people in front of him, both purchasing the smallest bottles from behind the counter. Probably all that could be afforded given the state of their clothes. As he waited, he wondered how long it would be until he was one of them.

 

His turn came, but as he felt around in his pocket to dig out his wallet, his fingers brushed against something soft and warm. Giving a tug, he pulled free Roger, Hope’s stuffed dog. He’d forgotten to give it back after his final trick and he knew that she’d miss it.

 

He left the liquor store with nothing more than the plush dog, the rum forgotten at the counter. His brother’s words playing before him as he wandered back to his room.

 

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets._

 

He’d messed up five years ago, letting Emma go without ever trying. He wouldn’t do it again.

 

He woke early again, this time finding his way to a barber shop, letting them trim his hair and beard. It was amazing how such a small thing could make such a big difference in his mood. Everything felt as if in had shifted, and for the first time since Liam’s death, he felt the darkness being held at bay.

 

Changing into clean, unwrinkled clothes, Killian made his way to Emma’s apartment. He’d gotten the address from David, explaining that he wanted to return Hope’s puppy. David had agreed that it was imperative that the dog be returned as soon as possible, having seen first hand the tantrum that could follow when it was lost for too long.

 

He should have called first, though, if Emma’s reaction was any indication.

 

“I’m sorry to just show up like this, but I found Hope’s little dog yesterday evening and wanted to return it to her.”

 

She looked stunned as her green eyes bore into him, looking almost into her soul. The spell was only broken when her phone rang and she invited him in to wait. It was the first time they’d been alone since the funeral, and neither seemed to know what to do.

 

Whatever hopes he had for some form of reconciliation was dashed a moment later. The phone call had been from her stations. Apparently, a piece of key evidence had gone missing, and with the trial approaching, she needed to go in and hunt it down. She was just about to call Mary Margaret to ask her to babysit Hope when the words shot out of his mouth.

 

“I’d be more than happy to watch the lass, love.”

 

He wasn’t sure if it was the offer or the term of endearment that had slipped of it’s own accord, but Emma mouth fell open.

 

“I-” she started.

 

“Swan, I’m already here and I’ve grown quite fond of the girl. You can trust that she’ll be safe in my charge until you return.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Swan, go. Save the day.”

 

And with that she left, telling him to call Mary Margaret or David if he had any problems, promising to be back as soon as possible. Hope, for her part, had been ecstatic to find him there when she woke. Clearly she’d taken after her mother in the late-to-rise department.

 

The morning was spent watching cartoons. After the third round of the Paw Patrol theme song, he was ready to tear his hair out. The tune had implanted itself in the deepest recess of his brain and he was certain that he’d hear it in his sleep that night. Eventually he was able to tear Hope away from the television long enough to make her breakfast -pancakes. He let her put ribbons in his hair after, they took tea in her room, and finally they setted on coloring pictures.

 

Hope had been hard at work on hers. The determination obvious as her tongue flickered out as she changed colors. When she was finished, she presented it to Killian.

 

“Look!”

 

“And what’s this, lass?”

 

There was an obvious brown blob, and what he thought might have been a stick figure, but the overall picture was lost on him.

 

“It’s a boat on the ocean. Duh.” She had spunk. “He’s a sailor, just like my daddy.”

 

The air rushed from his lungs.

 

“Oh, I forgot to sign it!”

 

Hope rummaged around her crayon bin until she found a black crayola. Quickly she scribbled something in the bottom corner before handing it back to Killian.

 

_HJ_

 

“And what does that say, little love?”

 

“Well I can’t write my whole name yet.” Exasperation was clear in her voice, as if it should have been obvious.

 

“Ah, well please accept my sincerest apologies then. But what does the ‘J’ stand for.”

 

“Oh. That’s my last name. Hope Jones.”

 

The set the picture aside and started on a new drawing, not realizing the bomb she had just dropped on him.

 

_Hope Jones._

 

He stayed silent as she continued with her next masterpiece, unable to formulate words. Thinking back, fragments of memories playing before his eyes. The way _he_ and Emma had teased each other their freshman year. The way Emma had blushed at _him_ that day. The way Emma had whispered in _his_ ear at lunch when he left. The way _he_ always volunteered for the trips back to Boston.

 

And then there were Hope’s eyes. Her ocean blue eyes.

 

 _Liam’s eyes_.

 

When Emma returned he’d had to force the prickle of tears in his eyes not to flow. It was the ultimate betrayal. Hope ran to her mother, excited for her to be home. Emma asked Hope to go wash up, leaving them alone for the third time in three days.

 

“Hey, did you want to stay for dinner? I, uh, think we should probably talk.”

 

“Actually, Swan.” He could feel his voice breaking. “I have somewhere I need to be.”

 

He didn’t wait for her response. He just left, practically running from the apartment. Running from Emma. An hour of walking aimlessly through the city lead him to ‘The Jewel’. It was a worn down tavern that Liam had frequented. A Boston landmark of sorts for it’s Revolutionary decor. Everything was still the same, right down to the bartender and owner, August Boothe.

 

One drink. Two drinks. Three drinks, four. He lost count, drinking himself into oblivion. He was vaguely aware of August calling Emma, telling her that she needed to come down and get him. _Of course_ she would be the bar’s on-call officer. She was the last person he wanted to see. The thought of her and Liam together in that way sickened him, and he felt the bile rise.

 

On wobbly legs he stumbled from the bar, ignoring August’s protests that he should stay and sober up. He needed to get away from Emma, away from the ghost of Liam. So as ironic as it was, his legs carried him straight to Liam’s gravesite.

 

He ranted and raved against the night, letting his knees buckle and his tears finally fall.

 

“I can’t even be mad because you were always the better man and Emma deserved the best.”

 

* * *

 

**Emma**

 

She should have expected it, in theory. She knew something had been off when he’d immediately dismissed himself. Granted, it was her own fault. She’d been avoiding him the entire time he had been back, ashamed of her own actions five years previous. The drunk mistake that had haunted her for years.

 

Then she found the picture. The sailor on the ship, and the HJ in the corner. He’d figured it out, just when she had finally been ready to tell him about it. She’d always had the worst timing. Still, when the call came from August that Killian was three sheets to the wind and needed help, her heart nearly ripped from her chest. She’d never meant to hurt him.

 

It took ages for David to arrive to watch Hope. As she waited, she paced her living room floor, practicing her lame attempt at an apology speech. She’d barely remembered to grab her trusty red leather jacket on the way out the door. Her bug rumbled to life and she set out for the bar on the other side of town, thinking about what she’d done.

 

Finding out that she was ten weeks pregnant all those years ago had been devastating. She’d had an inkling for some time that she was with child, but she’d been too chicken to find out for sure. It wasn’t until Mary Margaret had put it together and had forced her to take a test that she knew for certain. She’d finally broken down that night, sitting at the table in in brother’s loft, explaining how they’d both gotten really drunk. It had been a huge mistake. She’d had a crush on him for years, and with the alcohol, she gotten brave and had told him how she’d felt.

 

But he had been scheduled to leave the next day, and when she’d seen him the morning after, everything had changed. Neither of them had talked about it, and it had been obvious that he’d regretted it too. David had insisted that she tell him, but she couldn’t. He was a man of honor, and she knew he’d return to Boston to help raise Hope. She refused to be his duty, especially when he clearly felt nothing for her. She couldn’t ruin his life that way.  So, instead, she’d kept it a secret.

 

She’d briefly considered giving the little girl up for adoption, but when she’d held her for the first time and looked into those ocean blue eyes, she’d seen the little girl’s father and knew that she could never giver her up. The man that had given her her crystal eyes may not have been there, but a part of him always would be. She’d named her Jones, after her father, hoping that she would grow up to be the amazing person that he was.

 

Then Liam had returned a few months later on assignment. She’d tried to avoid him, but he’d dropped by David’s unannounced as she’d beenvisiting, and her secret had been discovered. They fought all night about her deception, but she’d finally convinced him that she could raise Hope on her own, and that keeping the whole thing a secret was for the best.

 

Liam hadn’t been happy, but he’d promised to respect her wishes. After that, he’d volunteered for every assignment that would bring him back to Boston, even if only for a few days. He’d stay with Emma in the spare room and played with Hope as much as possible.

 

And then it had happened. Word had come that Liam had died and her world had fallen apart. The heartache deepened when she’d realised that Liam’s death meant that Killian was coming home, and that she wouldn’t be able to hide her secret any longer. He’d figure out what she’d done, and he’d hate her for it. Not only for her own deception, but for Liam’s part in it too.

 

She’d stayed away at first, letting him grieve in peace. She didn’t want to add to his suffering by burdening him with the truth. Every conversation felt strained, and she kept her mouth shut as much as possible, making sure that she didn’t just blurt it out in the middle of dinner.

 

And of course, just as she finally found the courage, he’d found out.

 

The Jewel was busy, and it took a few minutes to wave August down. She’d searched for Killian on her own but couldn’t find him and assumed that August had stashed him away in his office, letting him sleep it off. He wasn’t there though, having fled as soon as he heard her name over the phone. She wanted to scream. Scream at August for letting him leave. Scream at Killian to listen to her. The scream at herself for the whole situation.

 

She went back to her car, nearly sobbing as she hit the steering wheel with both hands in frustration. Once she calmed herself down enough to think clearly, she went over her mental list of every possible place he would have gone. The realization hit her like lightning. They were only four blocks from the cemetery.

 

She chose to walk there, to let her mind clear from the fog of everything that had happened. He wasn’t hard to find, hearing him before she saw him kneeling on the ground, cursing Liam’s name.

 

“Killian?”

 

Her voice was small, even to her ears.

 

“Go away, Emma.”

 

 _Emma_. He never called her that.

 

“Killian, please. Just talk to me.”

 

A strangled noise wretched its way from his throat as he laughed at her. She felt a chill run up her spine. She’d never seen him like that before. Gone was the sweet boy, the rakish rogue from all those years ago, replaced by something almost sinister.

 

“Talk to _you_? How the hell can I talk to you when you’ve gone so far out of your way to avoid me?”

 

He was yelling.

 

“Killian, I was going to tell you tonight. I promise, but then-”

 

“And what? That’s supposed to make it all better?”

 

He was no longer on the ground, but standing inches in front of her. His breath was hot against her face.

 

“You lied to me, Emma. You all lied to me for years!”

 

She felt the wetness against her cheeks and her eyes burned. His words, harsh as they might have been, were true and deserved.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

He turned and walked away.

 

“Just tell me why.”

 

“Killian, we were drunk, and I knew it was a mistake.”

 

He didn’t let her get any further.

 

“No, Emma. Why _him_? Why my brother?”

 

She paused, not sure what to say to him.

 

“I was your best friend and you pushed me away. I lost everything. I lost everything because of you! And then you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me that you went behind my back and slept with my brother. That you bore his child. So tell me Emma, why him?”

 

Realization. How could he have thought such a thing.

 

“Is that what you think? That Hope is Liam’s daughter?”

 

She felt the rage burning inside of her.

 

“You can’t deny it. She signed his name. I saw it in her face. She has his eyes.”

 

He sounded so broken, and it only enraged her more.

 

“You idiot. She has Liam’s eyes because you do too! Killian, she has _your_ eyes because she’s _your_ kid!”

 

Her entire body was trembling. The truth was out there, finally, but she couldn’t stand there and argue anymore. She turned and ran back to her car, and the fact that he didn’t follow her stung more than she could have described. She refused to speak to David when she got home, instead dismissing him and going straight to Hope’s room. Her daughter was so clearly his. How could Killian have ever thought she’d have done anything with Liam when she’d only ever loved _him_?

 

Pressing a soft kiss to Hope’s cheek, Emma left the room and crawled into her own bed where memories of graduation night played through her head. The four of them had arrived at Victor’s for one last celebration. Killian’s departure had been looming over her for weeks. They’d quickly downed the expensive bottle of rum, and Emma had decided to finally throw caution to the wind, raising on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Killian’s lips. Something soft and chaste to test the waters.

 

Something had darkened in his eyes. His arm had gone around her waist and his lips had descended back onto her own. Their tongues had danced and tangled together. She’d wanted him to take her right then and there, but being the gentleman he was, he’d insisted on going somewhere more private. His apartment had been closer than hers, and they had found their way to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind them.

 

She’d woken the next morning in a panic, though. They’d both been highly intoxicated, and as the fog of that cleared, she’d realized what a mistake they had made. He had been set to leave a few hours later, chasing his dream. There was no future between them. She’d never be able to compete with that, and in the end she’d only be left with heartbreak.

 

So she’d run, grabbing her clothes and dressing in the dark, sneaking out before he’d had a chance to wake. At lunch, she’d sat next to Liam, who somehow knew. He kept trying to push her to talk with Killian, having known that she’d been in love with him, but she’d refused, shushing him each time he’d tried to bring it up.

 

When she’d gone to say goodbye to Killian, he hadn’t brought it up, clearly having regretted it. So she’d left as quickly as she could, not wanting to let him see her cry. And just like that night, she once again cried herself to sleep, weeping for all that she had lost.

 

* * *

 

**Killian**

 

It was a punch to the gut. The wind had been knocked out of him, and he couldn’t even force his feet to budge as she ran away. He wanted to follow, but he was paralyzed.

 

He had a daughter.

 

It was impossible though. He had Emma had never even kissed, much less made love. He racked his brain on his walk back to his hotel, hoping the fresh air would sober him up. As he went, his confusion and surprise slowly became replaced with anger. If it was true - and God how he wished it was - he’d missed so much. He’d missed her being born, her first steps, first words. He’d missed everything because Emma had kept her from him. Emma hadn’t seen him worthy of being a father. He wasn’t good enough for Emma, so how could he have possibly been good enough for Hope?

 

He didn’t sleep, instead tossing and turning, trying desperately to remember anything. It was impossible for Hope to have been his, and that hurt more than he could have imagined. At the first sign of dawn, Killian drove himself to the outskirts of town, walking down the coastline before finally finding an isolated section of beach to sit on.

 

He stayed there for hours, letting the water calm his racing heart. Ships passed by in the distance, and yet he stayed, unable to comprehend everything that was happened. The entire day passed as he sat there, still as lost and confused as before. His anger had cooled though, and he was ready for answers.

 

A call later and David was agreeing to meet him at Granny’s. They filtered into their normal both, ordering coffee but nothing else.

 

“So you know?”

 

It wasn’t a question. Of course he knew.

 

“Aye. But I’m not sure how.”

 

“You don’t know how babies are born? Well, when a man and woman-”

 

“I know basic biology, mate. But Emma and I never did… _that_.”

 

“Come on, Jones. Your memory cant be _that_ bad.”

 

They’d gone round and round until David was certain that Killian wasn’t taking the piss out of him, or worse, disrespecting Emma. Finally though, David filled him in. It had been the night of graduation. They’d drunk an entire bottle of rum between the two of them, and before David knew it, they’d disappeared.

 

He hadn’t known what had happened right away. Killian had left the city and Emma had simply _changed_. At first David had just thought she’d been lonely without her best friend, but a few months later she’d found out she was pregnant and had finally explained what had happened graduation night. David had been furious at first, thinking Killian had just used Emma for sex.

 

Time had faded the hurt David felt, but it wasn’t until just then, as he realized that Killian hadn’t remembered his night with Emma, that David was finally able to forgive him. He’d also explained how upset Liam had been when he’d seen Hope for the first time. When he’d seen her eyes and had immediately known that she was Killian’s daughter. Liam and Emma had fought for hours about it, about how she needed to tell Killian or he would.

 

Eventually, he’d agreed to keep it a secret when she’d pointed out that she didn’t want to ruin Killian’s life, not when his heart wouldn’t have been in it. That, at least, was something that Liam had understood. The last thing Liam had wanted was to throw a wrench into his brother’s life.  But Hope had Liam wrapped around his little finger, and he’d come home has much as possible to see his niece.

 

Killian still wasn’t sure how to react to the fact that his brother had known about Hope nearly the entire time and had always kept it from him.

 

“So sleeping with me was a mistake. Her biggest regret.”

 

That was possibly the part of the story that stung the most.

 

“No, Killian. It wasn’t like that.”

 

He understood what his friend was trying to do, but it didn’t help.

 

“You don’t get it. When you left, Emma shut down. Everything was different, duller, and I couldn’t quite place why. It wasn’t until after Hope was born that I figured it out. Emma didn’t tell you, because she didn’t want you to feel obligated to be with her.”

 

“Mate, you’ve already said as much. It’s fine, really.”

 

It wasn’t.

 

“Don’t you get it? She didn’t want you to throw everything away for her. She put your happiness above her own.”

 

“Look Dave, I understand what you’re trying to say, but right now, it doesn’t feel like it. She didn’t want to be tied to me, and I get it. I’m a mess. I was never good enough to deserve her.”

 

“Killian. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but in Emma’s mind, she was giving you your best chance. She put what she thought was your happiness before her own because she was in love with you. She probably still is, if I’m being honest.”

 

David paused to take a sip of his coffee before continuing.

 

“When we were in college, she only dated losers, men she could easily find fault with. She didn’t want anything long term because she was always waiting for _you_.”

 

“I- But Neal.”

 

“Neal was a compromise. She’d given up. You’d spent months talking about joining the Navy, and she figured that if nothing had happened by that point, nothing would. He cheated on her you know, and tried to frame her for some car chopping thing he’d gotten himself mixed up in. She begged us not to tell you though. Didn’t want you to think less of her.”

 

Of course he tried to get Emma to take the fall for his crime. The only thing that outweighed his distaste for Neal Cassidy was knowing that Emma was afraid to tell him what had happened. She’d needed him and he wasn’t there because he’d been so jealous of the louse. _He’d_ been the one to push her away all those years ago, not her.

 

“She’d only tried dating once after Hope was born. Another one of Emma’s trademark losers. Some guy that figured since she was a single mother she’d be an easy lay. Created a bit of paperwork on my end when he tried to press charges on her for the broken nose she gave him.”

 

That was the Swan he knew.

 

“Killian, she never dated because no one was _you_.”

 

They talked more. David trying to assure Killian that Emma was still worth fighting for, that there was still a chance. His friend also filled him in on Hope, telling him stories about all of her antics.

 

“She may have Emma’s hair but she has your everything else. Your eyes. Your love for water. Your sense of mischief.”

 

They stayed there until closing time, catching up as true friends. No secrets. Just them as mates, like they used to be. Eventually Granny popped by their table with to coffee’s in togo cups, an obvious sign that they’d overstayed their welcome. When David left him to walk to his car, he did so with a ‘go get her’ and a wink. Emma’s apartment wasn’t far from Granny’s but he wasn’t sure if he’d be welcomed. He’d already made such a mess of things, and he knew it would take a miracle for Emma to talk to him.

 

He steadied himself to knock on her door. He tried to think of something to say as he waited, but there were no words to express how truly sorry he was for his behavior. When she answered the door, he felt like such a fool, showing up announced, not knowing what to do or say. He should have at least brought her flowers or something.

 

He was completely ready for her to shut the door in his face. To shut him out of her life and out of Hope’s as well. He’d deserve it if she did. But then she went and surprised him, inviting him in, telling him to make himself comfortable while she put Hope to bed.

 

Hope had heard him though, and insisted on him telling her a bedtime story. Emma had smiled and he had followed. He’d offered to read her something from one of her many fairy tale books, but she wouldn’t have it, insisting on an original story. Emma gave her a stern look and warned her about stalling at bedtime. And there is was. The mischievous streak that David had commented on. That was _his_ daughter.

 

He assured Emma that it was fine, and began to weave a tale, something to make up for all of the night’s he’d missed putting her to bed. For all of the nightmare’s he hadn’t chased away.

 

“Once upon a time there was a princess. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in all of the realms, and people would flock to her kingdom just to look upon her beauty. But there was one person who was jealous of the beloved princess, The Evil Queen. She had promised to take away the princesses happy ending with a dark curse…”

 

Hope cuddled up to him as he told the story

 

“He wasn’t really a blacksmith though. He was actually a ruthless pirate in disguise, blinded by hate and revenge. One look at the princess though, and he had fallen under her spell. Just her mere presence was enough to drive the darkness from his heart.”

 

The little girl was enraptured by the tale. She gasped when he told her of the giant, and her eyes widened as he got to the climax.

 

“And when he found her, she looked so peaceful that he feared she was already gone. Sleeping curses were powerful things, and the only way to break them was with true love’s kiss. He knew that his love for the princess was true, but he wasn’t certain if she had felt the same way. After all, he was a lowly irate with a dark past, endeserving of the princess’s love. But in the end, true love won out, for when he kissed her she awakened, and they lived happily ever after.”

 

Hope’s eyes had fluttered shut and once he was certain she was asleep, he slid out of her bed as carefully as possible, making sure not to wake her. Emma followed him back into the living room, neither of them knowing what to say to each other.

 

Finally, he broke the silence.

 

“Swan, that night-” He was already mucking it up. “I used to have dreams about you. Very vivid dreams about you, about us, doing… things.”

 

He felt his cheeks warm and noticed Emma’s had pinkened as well.

 

“Sometimes I’d wake and expect to find you laying next to me, but you never were, because they were only ever dreams. That night, graduation night, I didn’t remember it, because I was a fool. I woke the next morning, and I’d just assumed it had been a dream.”

 

He saw a lone tear make its way down Emma’s face.

 

“But I assure you, had I known, had I thought there was even the slightest chance between us, I would have stayed. I would have turned my back on my dream without a second thought.”

 

Her lips parted and he knew she was going to interrupt him, to wave him off, but he couldn’t let her. They’d already wasted so much time dancing around their feelings. It was time to man up. To fight for what he wanted.

 

“And I don’t just mean if I had known about Hope, although she would have been plenty worth staying for. But, Emma, what I meant was that if I had known that you felt the same for me as I do for you, I would have walked away from everything I’d planned for my life, because the only thing in this world I ever wanted more was you. The thing I wanted most was always you.”

 

He was fairly certain he was crying as well, and when Emma crossed the room and grabbed on the the lapels of his jacket, he tasted the mixture of both of their tears on her lips. He felt the need and longing in her just as much as he had in himself.

 

The stayed that way. Tongues mixing together, moaning as years of pinning finally paid off. It was Emma who deepened the kiss, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Guiding him towards what he assumed was her own bedroom.

 

It was Emma who started it, but it was Killian that stepped back.

 

“Emma, we can’t do this.”

 

Her eyes snapped up to his. Pain was all he saw as she took as step back, wrapping her arms around herself.

 

“Wait, I didn’t- Bloody hell. Emma, look at me.”

 

She was weary, with good reason. He already rejected her once, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time.

 

“I want you, Swan. But not like this. Not just tonight. I want to do this proper. To ask you out on a date, to court you. I want to build a life with you.”

 

He barely had a chance to finish before she’d launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and tucking her head under his chin. They stayed there until Emma’s clock chimed signaling how late it had become. When Killian left that night, it was with a promise to return in the morning for breakfast.

 

The next morning came and went. Every morning he arrived with the sun, and each night he stayed late enough to tell Hope a story as she drifted to sleep. Days turned into weeks, which turned to months.

 

He’d resigned his commision, unable to tear himself away from his family. When he’d arrived in Boston all those months before to bury his brother, he could never have expected that losing Liam would have brought him so much more. He spent all of his free time with Emma and Hope, making up for lost time.

 

He knew that eventually he’d need to find a job, but between Liam’s benefits and his own savings, he was just enjoying having the opportunity to find himself again.

 

Months turned into years. Rings adorned both of their hands, and the next time Emma took a pregnancy test he was there. He’d promise himself that he wouldn’t miss anything, not that time.

 

It was some time after their son was born, with both of them lying in bed after a long night that Killian had found himself asking a question that had been lingering in his mind for years.

 

“Emma, love.”

 

Her reply was groggy.

 

“What did Liam say to you all of those years ago at graduation that had made you blush?”

 

She turned to him, and he knew, even in the dark, that her cheeks were crimson once again.

 

“He said a woman unwilling to fight for what she wants, gets what she deserves.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always you can come yell at me on tumblr: wellhellotragic


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